I broke a light-stick, clipped it to my coat, then moved to the back of the Sno-Trac and grasped one end of a steel cable that fed off a drum mounted near the rear exit and attached it to the loop on my belt. I pulled down my goggles and opened the door, allowing the wind and weather to blow inside. I paused and climbed out but it wasn’t a time to dally; I let go of the vehicle and stepped out into the blinding void.

I’d practised this many times in a fog chamber – there was one the size of two football pitches at the Academy – but doing it for real was quite different: the noise and wind-blown snow added a raucous hostility that I hadn’t expected, and despite the lack of visibility in a fog chamber, it doesn’t have the disorientating effect of the snow constantly moving about you. I held my hand out in front of me and walked in the direction in which I hoped the Siddons would lie.

It took thirty-two-and-a-half paces to reach one of the statues that adorned the entrance. I was close enough to see it was a sleep-nymph, and I moved to the right until I found the door, then transferred the cable to the hefty eyelet bolted to the masonry. I tugged the cable twice, waited for Jonesy to emerge from the swirling emptiness, and once we were inside I shut the front door against the blizzard. The noise and wind ceased abruptly and the snowflakes, released from their wind-borne activity, floated gently to the floor.

Porter Lloyd and two cadaverous-looking winsomniacs were holding blankets and mugs of hot chocolate when we opened the inner door. Only they weren’t waiting for us.

‘Oh,’ said Lloyd, ‘Worthing. Thanks for the custom. Most grateful.’

‘Custom?’

He pointed to the door of the Winterlounge, where I could see several winsomniacs warming themselves around the coal fire. Shamanic Bob was amongst them and waved a weak greeting. They must have left almost the moment I told them about the blue Buick dream.

‘How many?’

‘Eight have checked in out of the thirty-two who left the Wincarnis,’ replied Lloyd, ‘and the way things are looking, I won’t expect many more. That was quite ruthless, if you don’t mind me saying. Didn’t expect it of you.’

It was a surprise to me, too.

‘I never expected them to move across in this.’

Jonesy, however, was not in a stop-and-chat sort of mood.

‘Consulate business, Mr Lloyd. We’ll see ourselves up.’

She headed off towards the paternoster lift. I thought of waiting in the lobby, but other than stealing her Sno-Trac and running off into the blizzard – again, details not yet fully worked out – I couldn’t see any plan of action. Perhaps I could brazen it out.